Three Righteous Souls – Part 10

By Michael Morgan

Copyright 2016 All Rights Reserved

— 10 —

 

 

Tom woke with a start. Late afternoon dust motes were swirling in the sunbeam coming through the drapes. Soft murmurs told him the others were in one of the bedrooms, so he pushed off the afghan and struggled out of his recliner feeling every step of the sixty miles to Montgomery and back.

Half-way across the back yard he heard the creak-slap of the screen and turned around as Jeremiah pounded up.

“Where you goin’ Mr. Lewis?” Jeremiah panted.

“To see a man about a horse,” Tom said. “What’s got you in such a hurry?”

Jeremiah looked at the ground, “I wanted to ask you a question.”

“So ask,” said Tom resuming his walk toward the jake.

When no question came, Tom stopped and looked at him. “What’s on your mind Jeremiah?”

Jeremiah looked at the ground, “Are you my daddy now?”

“That’s an interesting question,” Tom scratched his head. “Why do you ask?”

“Mamma’s sleepin’ in your bed now,” Jeremiah looked up at him sideways. “Isn’t that what grownups do when…?”

“Hmph. I never thought about it,” Tom scratched his chin. “Since it’s just us men, I’ve got to tend my business, but we can still talk.” Tom started walking again with Jeremiah following along. “Why don’t you tell me about your real daddy,” Tom said as he opened the outhouse door and went inside.

Jeremiah stood outside dragging the toe if his shoe in the dirt, “I don’t know much. Mamma told me after Caroline was born, Daddy went to the store and was in a car wreck.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Tom’s voice was muffled by the walls. “What happened after that?”

“Mamma was real sad for a long time. Then she decided she had to get a job, so she went to school to be a teacher.” Jeremiah said. “That’s kinda funny isn’t it Mr. Lewis? Goin’ to school to be a teacher?”

“It is funny to think about it that way,” Tom chuckled as he came out of the jake, “but being a teacher isn’t an easy job if you do it well. So what happened after that?”

“When Caroline was old enough to go to school, Mamma got a job and we all went to school together,” Jeremiah followed Tom back toward the house.

Tom stopped at the pump, “Get the water for me?” As Jeremiah worked the handle Tom continued, “Your daddy sounds like a decent man, and I could never replace him. He’s yours and you should keep his memory special.” Tom stepped back from the pump and shook the water off his hands, “That’s enough.” Jeremiah stopped pumping and they waited a few moments for the pump to trickle dry before Tom picked up the catch basin and scattered the water across the lawn.

“Getting back to your original question,” Tom paused outside the screen door. “I can’t say what might happen in the future, but I would be honored to be your friend while we sort it out. Will that be enough?” At Jeremiah’s nod, Tom opened the door and they went inside.

Emma came in from the living room, “What were you two talking about for so long?”

“Man stuff,” Tom said with a wink to Jeremiah.

“You hungry?” Emma asked.

“I ought to be,” Tom pulled out a chair. “That was a long walk.”

Emma opened a cabinet, “Will dump soup be OK?”

“Dump soup?” Tom sounded skeptical.

“You open some cans, and dump them in the same pot,” Emma said.

“So, Dump Soup. Makes perfect sense,” Tom finished for her. “Sure. Let’s give it a try.”

As Emma busied herself with the can opener, Tom spoke to her back. “Jeremiah was trying to find out if my intentions toward you were honorable.”

“He what?!” Emma turned to look at him astonished. “You’re not kidding are you?”

Tom shook his head, “You have a fine son Emma. I’d forgotten what a hoot kids can be.”

“Do you have any kids?” Tom’s face made her wish she could take the question back. “I’m sorry…”

Tom sighed, “Don’t be. Miriam, my wife, and I had two girls.”

“Your wife’s picture is on the mantel piece?” Emma turned back to stir the soup.

“That’s Miriam,” Toms said. “She passed five years ago.”

“Your girls?” Emma asked over her shoulder.

“No idea,” Tom said sadly. “We grew ’em up. They decided to go away to school, and they just never came back.”

“I’m sorry,” Emma said. “I was wrong to ask. When I only saw Miriam’s picture, I didn’t think…”

“No harm done,” Tom assured her. “You had no way to know. Jeremiah told me a little about his father.”

Emma turned back to the pot of soup, “He told you it was a car accident?”

“That’s what he said,” Tom straightened as Emma ladled soup into a bowl and presented it to him. “You’re not having any?”

“We had supper a couple of hours ago,” Emma slid out the chair across from Tom and sat. “While you were asleep.”

The soup was tasty. Beans, corn, diced tomatoes, and green chilies with the water from the cans. Tom spooned some up, “Fine soup.”

“Thanks. It’s hard to cook just enough to go around, since we can’t store leftovers,” Emma said thoughtfully. “What’s going to happen Tom?”

“Wish I knew,” another spoon of soup. “No TV or radio broadcasts. No electricity means no water, sewer, or fuel. Blocked bridges limit mobility.”

Emma fidgeted with a pencil the kids left on the table, “But why round people up?”

“Volksturm,” Tom replied.

“Volks-what?” Emma asked.

“Loosely translated, ‘People’s storm’,” Tom explained. “Near the end of World War II, as everything was collapsing and the Russians were closing in on Berlin, the Nazis started drafting just about anyone big enough to carry a gun. Old men and little boys between twelve and sixty were rounded up and sent to reinforce the Army.”

Emma pursed her lips, “You think we’re at war?”

Three Righteous Souls – Part 9

By Michael Morgan

Copyright 2016 All Rights Reserved

— 9 —

 

“That’s my car,” Emma admitted.

“Tom said he hired you three weeks ago,” Bob thumbed his hat back and scratched his forehead. “Is that right?”

Emma nodded.

“Now I’m just a small town Sheriff, but I have to wonder why your car is in my impound yard. I find it even more interesting that it was picked up along Forty-one after we cleared out a bunch of squatters.” Bob looked her in the eye, “Care to explain that?”

“I was…” Emma started.

“Save it,” Bob cut her off. “I don’t know why Tom took you in,” he looked her up and down, “but I can guess. Now me, I’ve got a standing request from the Feds to round up and deliver all homeless and refugees to Montgomery. For that my department gets reimbursed at the rate of five hundred dollars a head.”

“We’re not refugees…” Emma started again.

Bob stood away from the door frame, “I’m really not interested.”

Emma started backing away, “Please. I just came to work for Mr. Lewis.”

“And she had a tough time getting here.” The voice from the kitchen spun Bob around to face the speaker. “What are you doing in my house Bob?” Tom asked.

Bob puffed himself up with officiousness, “Now look Tom. These people were in a homeless camp we broke up a few days ago, and I have proof.”

“So what?” Tom’s voice was low, “She’s my housekeeper, and that’s all that matters to you.”

“I have orders from the Feds…” Bob weaseled.

“Sheriff Bob McCandless stands up to Washington to protect your rights,” Tom mocked Bob’s old campaign slogan before turning a hard stare on the Sheriff. “You’d best go do more of that standing up to Washington Bob. I’ve had a long day, and I’m out of patience.”

Bob started for the back door before Tom stepped in front of him, “Where’s your social graces Bob? Back door is for family. Front door is for company. You’ve been hanging with your new friends so much, you forgot where you come from.”

A dark red blush started up from the Sheriff’s collar, but before he could say anything, Tom added insult to injury, “Emma please show our guest out.”

Bob turned on his heel, “I know the goddamned way out!” Emma tried to help him get the door unblocked, but Bob just bulled his way through, and slammed it behind himself. A few moments later the truck’s engine groaned to life and Bob’s tires threw a rooster tail of dirt and stones against the front of the house.

 

Emma watched through the drapes until the truck fishtailed its way back onto the county road. Turning, she crashed into Tom’s chest burying her tears in his shirt, “I thought…”

“I know what you thought Emma,” Tom soothed, “but he didn’t. You and the kids are safe.”

“I was so scared! I woke up and you were gone, just some note!” Emma stood back from him, and her fear became rage, “Where did you go Tom?! Why did you leave us?!”

“Now Mrs. Pitts…” Tom started.

“That’s enough with the Mrs. Pitts!” she yelled. “My name is Emajean Yolanda Pitts. That’s just plain Emma to you! I’ve never been married, so I ain’t no danged Missus!”

Tom calmly reached out and caught the hand waving a finger in his face, gently pulling her back against him, “Ok. Mrs…” He felt her tense, and chuckled, “Just kidding Emma.”

 

“Mama? Are you OK?” The adults looked into the hallway and saw Jeremiah standing there holding the pistol with Caroline peeking around her brother’s side.

Emma stepped away from Tom and wiped her eyes, “Yes Jeremiah. I’m fine. The Sheriff scared me is all. Mr. Lewis sent him away, so we’re all right.”

“Well I guess that explains why you didn’t shoot Bob,” Tom observed. “You keep leaving that gun lying around instead of in your pocket.”

Emma took the pistol from Jeremiah and put it in her pocket. Turning back to Tom, “You’ve convinced me. Now, where were you for two days?”

Tom reached behind his back and pulled a long barrel revolver from his belt before going over to the recliner and collapsing more than sitting down. Emma noticed the grass and mud stains on the knees of his jeans, and the burrs and plant fibers clinging all over him, “My goodness, what did you do?!”

A deep sigh of relaxation and Tom started, “I got to thinking about what Bob said the other day, and decided to go to Montgomery to see for myself.”

“Tom! That must be thirty miles!” Emma started.

“Each way,” Tom finished. “And I’m not as young as I used to be. The trip over took the rest of the night and most of the next day, I followed I-80 almost to the airport when I started seeing abandoned cars parked in the fields along the road. It was like a county fair or something.” He turned to Jeremiah, “Could you please bring me some water?”

When Jeremiah returned, Tom drank, and continued, “I snuck along the rows of cars. Every now and again a car would drive along one of the rows and be parked at the far end of a row. Soldiers were parking the cars and walking back toward the highway. That area is pretty open, so I had to crawl under the cars to stay hid.” He handed the glass beck to Jeremiah, “More please.”

“What was going on?” Emma prompted.

“I finally got to the front row of cars, and could see that the Army had the road blocked off. Thank you Jeremiah,” he took the glass and only sipped this time. “When a car would pull up the people were taken out and separated into three fenced areas with tents. Younger people, say under fifty, men and women went to the left gate. Women with children went to the center gate, and older people went to the right gate. Then a soldier would drive their car away and park it. A few times large trucks full of people would pull up, and the folks were sorted the same way. Some of these trucks had police and sheriff department markings.”

“The refugees Bob talked about,” Emma whispered.

Tom nodded, “Once a person went inside a gate, they went inside a tent, and after a while they came out the other side and got on a big bus, like a Greyhound bus. When it was full it drove them away.”

“Where were they going?” Emma wondered aloud.

Tom shrugged, “I didn’t go up and ask. I did see two interesting things.”

Emma came back to herself, and looked at him expectantly.

“They have electricity. The city is lit up like everything is normal,” Tom said. “One family that drove up didn’t take to kindly to whatever it was the Army fellas told them. The man started walking his wife and kids away from the roadblock, and three soldiers tried to stop him. He knocked a couple of them down and the third soldier shot him,” Tom shook his head. “Right in front of his kids. The woman starts screaming and trying to get to her husband, but the soldiers bundle her and the kids off through gate number two just like that,” Tom’s voice faded with the memory.

“What about the man?” Jeremiah asked.

Tom looked at him, “They just left him lying there.”

Difficult Gifting Decisions

Everyone has that friend or relative that is impossible to buy for, so if you will forgive a bit of shameless self-promotion, I would like to suggest:

https://www.amazon.com/Handbook-Modern-Percussion-Revolvers-Michael/dp/1440238987/ref=sr_1_sc_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1479489580&sr=8-1-spell&keywords=handbook+of+modern+percussion+revovlers

This book is a user’s manual for the person interested in trying out the handguns of the Old West and Civil War periods of the 19th Century.

It includes step-by-step instructions for handling and maintaining the 1860 Colt’s Army and 1858 Remington New Army revolvers from the Civil War, plus the modern Ruger Old Army.

All of the useful information the manufacturer supplied owner’s manual leaves out is covered here. The instructional text is illustrated with full color photos, and highlighted with fun historical facts, and pop culture references.

A perfect gift for the History/Old West/Civil War buff., Cowboy Action Shooting (CAS/SASS) competitor, and Firearms enthusiast.

Merry Christmas!

 

 

Three Righteous Souls – Part 8

By Michael Morgan
Copyright 2016 All Rights Reserved

— 8 —

            The cool of predawn darkness woke Emma. She lay silently listening to the house. Small noises came to her. Mostly they were far away. Safe sounds. Something she had not enjoyed for years it seemed, though she knew it was only a couple of weeks. Then she noticed the absence of sound in the room with her. She turned her head. No breathing. She turned further. No breathing. She put her arm out of the covers and carefully explored the other half of the bed.

Tom was gone.

“Probably his damned sense of propriety,” Emma grumbled to herself. “Mrs. Pitts this and Mrs. Pitts that. One minute we’re almost friends, then it’s back to Mrs. Pitts.” She threw off the covers and slipped her feet into her shoes. The house was in much better shape than when she had arrived, but a lot of broken glass still lurked in the carpet waiting to ambush unsuspecting feet.

The thin cotton of her dress did little good against the chill of the room. Living in the city Emma never realized how hot all of that concrete stays all night. After being stranded out in the country, she learned things can change dramatically. She hugged herself as she crept down the hall into the living room. Tom was not in his recliner nor on the couch. She checked the kitchen and found everything cold. No sign of Tom.

The first dawn light was starting to filter through the drapes she had rehung in the living room. Emma shook the kettle sitting on the stove. It had enough water for tea if she could find some. Striking a match, she started to light the burner when she saw the note.

Tea forgotten, she snatched up the paper.

“Good Morning Mrs. Pitts,

            Gone to check on some things.

            I’ll be back ASAP.

            Maybe today. Probably tomorrow.

            Stay close to the house, and keep your gun in your pocket.

            Use it if necessary, but better to stay out of sight.

                                                                         Tom”

Emma reread the note. “Definitely some communication issues,” she said aloud, “And we’re back to Mrs. Pitts!” Sighing deeply, she returned to the task of tea.

The tea had gone cold and Emma was sitting at the kitchen table lost in thought when the kids came tumbling down the hall.

“Good morning Mama!” Jeremiah sang as he gave her a hug. Caroline joined in from the other side. When Emma barely responded, Jeremiah’s brow went up, “Mom? What’s the matter? Where’s Mr. Lewis?”

“I don’t know,” Emma said in a small voice. “I woke up and he was gone. He left a note,” she handed the paper to Jeremiah, “It doesn’t really say anything,” she finished.

“Let me see!” demanded Caroline, and they read the note together.

“He says he’ll be back by tomorrow,” Jeremiah said confidently. “He wouldn’t lie to us. Would he?”

Emma put on a confident face, “Of course not. I was just worried he might get lost or hurt, and we won’t be able to find him. I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about.” She smiled at the kids, “Who wants pancakes for breakfast?”

 

The kids finished Huckleberry Finn before noon, and started on Tom Sawyer. After lunch all three worked on clearing the destruction left by the looters. Sponge baths followed. Emma hated wasting the propane used to heat the water, but being at least reasonably clean again felt soooo good. Dinner was spaghetti and the jar of marinara sauce she found in the pantry.

 

Bed time came early because the lamp was low on oil, and Emma did not know where to find more. Lying in Tom’s bed staring at the ceiling, Emma’s anxiety grew fangs and claws and started rattling the bars of its cage. The flash of a spotlight beam across the front of the house stopped her breath, and adrenaline surged through her body. Emma was halfway out of bed when the sound of the motor subsided as the car drifted along the road. The darkness returned, and Emma lay back down. The cage door was now twisted and hanging open.

“Mama? Why are you sleeping in here?”

Emma snapped awake. Fumbling for her gun, she dropped it in the darkness before she realized it was Caroline talking to her. She sagged back in the recliner trying to get herself back together enough to answer. “I was… I was waiting up for Mr. Lewis and fell asleep,” she lied. “Why are you up?”

“I need to use the bathroom,” Caroline replied.

Emma nodded invisibly in the darkness, “Ok. Let’s go.”

 

The breakfast dishes were almost done, and the kids were sitting at the table drawing pictures for Mr. Lewis when a knock sounded on the front door. Emma quietly walked to the front window and peeked out. A battered pickup sat there.

The knocking came again louder. “Tom?! You home?” called a voice through the battered front door. “Open up, its Bob McCandless.”

Emma stayed back so she did not disturb the drapes and watched. The man turned and went down the three steps to the lawn. She recognized the same fat Sheriff from the day before yesterday. Instead of returning to his truck, he turned and started around the side of the house.

Thinking quickly, Emma crossed the living room and put her finger to her lips before the kids could ask questions. Frantically, she beckoned to them to come out of the kitchen, and together they retreated down the hall every creaking floorboard that she had never paid attention to sounded like a tornado siren blasting out to announce their presence. She got the kids settled on the floor on the far side of the bed from the hall doorway when she heard the metallic creaking of the rusty spring of the screen door being stretched.

Again the insistent banging followed by the twist of the door knob and heavy footsteps. Emma knew the man was in the house. She looked at the kids and again gestured for silence before straightening her back and walking down the hall.

The Sheriff met her at the kitchen door, “Hello Ma’am. I’m Sheriff…”

“Bob. I remember,” Emma cut him off boldly. “You were here on Wednesday. Wasn’t it?”

“Yes ‘em. That’s me.” Bob leaned against the door frame, “Is Tom around?”

“I’m afraid not,” Emma crossed her arms. “Something I can tell him for you?”

Bob shook his head, “Nope. I really came to ask you some questions.” H reached into his shirt pocket and produced a folded stack of papers. Opening the stapled bundle, he flipped several pages, “Emma Pitts. Biloxi Mississippi, Red 2011 Toyota Corolla, Plate 4440ED.” He looked at her, “Sound familiar?”

Three Righteous Souls – Part 7

By Michael Morgan

Copyright 2016 All Rights Reserved

— 7 —

            Emma watched through the window as a fat man in a brown uniform and Smokey Bear hat stepped out from behind the door of his truck, and started walking up the driveway. “Hello Tom!” he called as he approached the house. The deputies hiding behind the open doors of the trucks relaxed. Once he was in the shade of the porch, he continued, “We’re out checking on folks. There was a riot near Selma two days ago, and when Selma PD broke it up, a lot of the rioters ran off into the countryside. We’ve had a bunch of looting, and some murders as a result, so we’re helping round them up.”

“Was that shooting I heard up near the Roger’s place?” Tom asked.

Bob pushed back his hat so he didn’t have to crane his neck back so far to talk to Tom, “Yeah. We caught a bunch of looters hold up in old lady Roger’s house. We tried to arrest ‘em and they started shooting.”

“All your boys OK?” Tom asked.

Bob grinned, “No casualties on our side. The looters didn’t make it.”

Tom nodded, “So what can I do for you?”

“Looks like you had some trouble of your own,” Bob said gesturing at the door leaning crookedly in its frame.

“I think that same bunch hit me too,” Tom said sadly. “Any chance one of ‘em was wounded before you got there?”

“Funny you should ask,” Bob said. “One had a bandage on his…” Movement at the window caught Bob’s eye. Faster than a man his size should be able to move, his pistol was out and aimed, “Come out! Now! Hands on top of your head!”

“Put that thing down Bob,” Tom said calmly. “You’re going to scare my housekeeper to death.”

Bob hesitated, and slightly lowered his weapon, “Housekeeper? When did you hire help?”

Tom turned toward the doorway, “Come on out Emma. Just move slowly.” As Emma came through the doorway, Toms said, “Bob, this is Emma Pitts, my housekeeper. I hired her three weeks ago. She’s got her two kids inside too.”

“Where are you from ma’am?” Bob holstered his pistol, but he did not snap the retaining strap, and he did not relax completely.

Emma stepped up beside Tom on the porch, “We’re from Biloxi.”

Tom leaned against a porch post, “What’s the story on the world Bob? Any news from outside?”

Bob regarded Emma for another long second before answering, “We know the power is out over a large part of the state. Montgomery and Mobile have power in scattered areas, but not much else. FEMA is a black hole. They’re always ‘assessing need’ and ‘allocating aid’, but nothing ever shows up. If I ask about the overall situation, they give me a list of bullshit honey-dos to prepare for their arrival.”

“Sounds typical,” Tom nodded.

“What I do know,” Bob said, “is a lot of the main transformer stations burned to the ground, and all about the same time. The National Guard commander is calling it terrorism.”

“Terrorists?” Tom sounded incredulous. “That doesn’t sound likely.”

Bob lowered his voice conspiratorially, “The orders out of Montgomery are to arrest and detain all refugees. Looters and saboteurs are to be shot on sight.”

Tom nodded, “That explains why you’re out running around like this.

“Speaking of, I’d best get back to it,” Bob admitted. “Keep an eye out Tom. Let me know if you see any new people around.”

“How do I do that Bob?” Tom asked. “The phones coming back on soon?”

“We’re monitoring CB channel 9,” Bob said “and we’re running patrols all over the county roads. You should see a car almost every day.”

“Saw one early this morning,” Tom admitted. “or his spotlight through my window, anyway.”

“Well I’ll see you later Tom,” Bob started to walk away and turned back. “Ms. Pitts, stay close to Tom. You’re not known around here, and you could get arrested by mistake.”

Emma half-smiled, “Thank you. I’ll be careful.”

“Hey Bob,” Tom called. “What are you doing with the folks you arrest?”

“We turn them over to FEMA in Montgomery. Y’all take care,” Bob turned and walked back to the trucks and his deputies. Watching the trucks back and turn, Tom and Emma could see people seated in the back of the trucks with their hands behind their backs. Men in the lead truck. Women and children in the other.

Emma crossed her arms and shivered despite the afternoon’s heat.

Tom nodded, “Not something I ever expected to see here.” Emma followed, still hugging herself, as he turned and walked back inside.

“Jeremiah.” Tom called. “C’mon out.”

The kids came out of the kitchen cautiously. “Who were they?” Jeremiah asked.

“Men following orders that don’t make sense,” Tom explained as he returned to his recliner, “so they can’t be blamed for thinking.”

“I don’t understand, Mr. Lewis.” Jeremiah started.

Emma cut him off, “They were policemen, and they’re looking for people like the ones who broke into Mr. Lewis’ house yesterday. They’re gone now.”

Jeremiah nodded, “We’re hungry. Can we have lunch now? Please?”

“Sure,” Emma replied. “Tom, are you hungry?”

When Tom didn’t answer Emma turned to see him lost in thought. Turning back to the kids, “Let’s see what we can find, and then the Housekeeper will need her junior housekeepers’ help to get this place livable.”

 

Emma shuffled carefully through the dark house. She stubbed her toe on a piece of furniture causing it to thump into the wall. She found the door frame, and groped her way into the room softly cursing country darkness under her breath. A soft slithering sound and several metallic clicks brought her up short, “It’s me Tom.”

“Mrs. Pitts?” came the voice in the dark. “Something wrong?”

Moving toward his voice, Emma found the edge of the bed, “The kids were kicking me to death. Do you mind?” She found the edge of the covers without waiting for an answer. As she settled in, she heard two metallic clicks and something heavy being set on the nightstand. “Sleep well,” she told him.